


Hot Wheels

by mambo



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M, Meet-Ugly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-03
Updated: 2019-04-03
Packaged: 2020-01-04 10:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18341729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/pseuds/mambo
Summary: Listen, Sam doesn't mean to get into an hour and a half long fight over a parking space, but like hell is he going to be the one to lose it.





	Hot Wheels

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cinni](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cinni/gifts).



> A little something for [cinni](https://twitter.com/itscinni) (whose Sam Wilson art is INCREDIBLE) while I was having a slow day at work. Inspired by this [Twitter thread](https://twitter.com/Mrhflrs/status/1112924566312050690).

“That motherfucker,” Sam Wilson mutters as he inches closer to the black Toyota Camry trying to back into  _ his _ space. The small patch of street is his by rights -- no way this asshole is going to get his spot when he zoomed right past it, going at least 45 in a 25 MPH speed zone. And Sam knows this guy, too. He’s always squeezing his annoying little Camry into spaces he barely fits or parking with his car right up on somebody else’s. 

Well, not today, Satan.

Sam Wilson will wait here, ass of his Honda Civic Hybrid just hanging out in the street like a public menace, until Mr. Camry decides to move right along and park on the next block where he belongs.

One minute passes. Then two. Then five.

“What the fuck,” Sam mutters, then presses on his horn once, twice -- just briefly. Just to let the guy know that he should  _ move out of Sam’s parking space _ .

The motherfucker honks right back.

“Okay, fine,” Sam says. He grabs his phone and plugs it into the car, changing the radio over to the audiobook he’s currently listening to:  _ Becoming _ by Michelle Obama. He got it free through his library. It’s good stuff. It’s stuff that can keep him distracted as the clock ticks forward another ten minutes, then twenty.

When he’s been sitting there for a half hour, drivers yelling at him to move out of the lane, he starts getting a little frustrated. He had things he wanted to do with his evening! Like cook dinner. And rearrange all of the furniture in his apartment. Potentially, he was going to save the world from something sinister.  _ Potentially _ . Can’t do any of that while sitting in his car, watching Mr. Camry try backing up into the space over and over, then realizing that he can’t make it without causing damage to both his car and Sam’s.

And so they wait. 

Fifty minutes in, Mrs. Sanchez, their neighbor, comes out and gives Sam a bottle of water and a pack of Skittles. “Thank you for fighting the good fight,” she says, then retreats back into the safety of their shared apartment building. It’s a short burst of sweet vindication, cooled by the reality that he’s still sitting in his car, nearly done with his audiobook, and now he needs to pee.

He hates Mr. Camry. He hates him with the white hot intensity of a bladder ready to burst.

At an hour and twenty minutes waiting, some of their neighbors start leaving for the evening. They probably have dinner plans or tickets to see a movie; meaning, they probably have a life. Sam’s life is now in this car. There’s no escape. He’ll never be able to leave. He’ll--

And just then, the Camry zooms away and quickly parallel parks a few yards over in one of the spaces vacated by one of their neighbors. Filled with a surprising mix of positive emotions -- relief! joy! victory! -- and the knowledge that he just wasted the length of a feature film to pettily get back at one of his most annoying neighbors, he pulls into the space. 

It fits his car perfectly.

He tells himself he’ll wait until Mr. Camry comes out, just so he can see what the fucker looks like.

But Mr. Camry doesn’t come out. Not for fifteen minutes does that man leave the safety of his ugly black Toyota Camry.

“Come on,” Sam says to the skies, but the skies don’t answer. Also, he’s not really looking at the sky so much as looking at the dull grey interior of his car, which is not particularly spiritual. “Just get out of the car. Get out of the fucking car, you motherfucking--”

There’s a knock on his window.

Sam nearly jumps out of his goddamn skin as he looks at the Abercrombie & Fitch model who is knocking on his window.

Skeptically, he rolls it down. Only then does he realize who the man must be.

“I had a whole speech,” the guy starts. “I wrote a whole speech of what I was going to say to you,” he says, holding up a Hello Kitty pad of paper with chicken scratch handwriting all over it.

“You can read that?” Sam asks, leaning closer, trying to examine the paper. It looks like something his three year-old niece would write, though she’s more of a My Melody kind of gal.

The guy looks down at the paper, then back up at Sam. “No,” he says. “I didn’t have a good angle and my pen kept running out of ink, so this isn’t my best handwriting. It is important to me that you know that this is not my best handwriting.”

Sam doesn’t think the guy probably hand writes more than his autograph, being an Abercrombie & Fitch model and all, but he nods. Whatever this man needs to leave him alone.

“Just…” He runs a hand through his long brown hair. He’s wearing a leather jacket with a button up shirt underneath. That shirt is not buttoned up all the way, revealing a tiny patch of dark chest hair and--

Oh hell no. Sam cannot think that this man is  _ hot _ . That is inappropriate. That is  _ immoral _ . He is at war here. Well, he was at war. He has since won.

“Why did you do it?” he asks, eventually. “Why did you box me in like that? Why did you  _ stay _ ?”

“Sometimes the good guy has to win,” Sam says, almost without thinking about it.

The guy blinks. “Am I the bad guy here?” he asks.

“You park like an asshole.”

There’s a moment of pause, and then the guy starts  _ laughing _ . He sounds hysteric with it, and Sam almost wants to ask if he needs, like, professional help for this.

And then he remembers he’s that kind of professional, so he stops.

“That’s too funny. Too fuckin’ funny. That whole time I was sitting there stewing and it’s because, damn it, I knew that parking like an asshole would catch up with me someday. And here it is!”

“You were just waiting until you were punished for your bad actions? Man, that is messed up. You need to realign your moral compass.”

“And you just kept me from parking for an hour out of a misplaced sense of moral justice.” He smiles at Sam, who rolls his eyes. “Anyhow, I missed my dinner plans. Wanna go get a burger? I’ll drive.”

“First of all, I see the way you blow through a 25 mph speed zone at 45. I am  _ not _ getting in the car with you.”

“Then you can drive,” he interjects.

“And,” Sam continues, because he’s not done, “I am not going to buy you dinner just because I made you miss plans.”

“Usually the person who asks the other person on a date pays for it.”

There’s a beat. “Are you asking me on a  _ date _ ?” he squawks.

“You’re cute. You’re passionate. You have a strong moral character. Seems like boyfriend material to me.”

“You are deranged,” Sam says.

“Most people call me Bucky.”

“I’m Sam,” he says out of habit. Then says, “I’ll drive but you’re paying.”

\-- --

The next morning, Sam wakes up, gets ready for work, goes downstairs and sees…

That motherfucking Toyota Camry boxing him in.

“Motherfu--” Sam starts, but is interrupted by the window of the Camry rolling down.

“Thought I could drive you to work this morning,” Bucky says with a movie star smile.

Rolling his damn eyes, Sam walks over to the passenger side of the car, slides in side, and gives Bucky a peck on the cheek. 

“Don’t worry,” Bucky says. “I’ll never box you in again.”

**Author's Note:**

> Follow [cinni](https://twitter.com/itscinni) on Twitter for great art! Follow [me](https://twitter.com/mamboao3) on Twitter for significantly less great art!


End file.
